Chapter Twenty
Lilith
Iwait until midnight, when the mansion is at its quietest, to move.
As I creep down the hallway from my room, I pass many lavish and extravagant rooms that may never see another occupant other than a few overnight guests, until I reach Colter’s room, in another wing of the mansion.
It’s an easy walk. Alistair keeps the lights on at night, barring a few on the ground floor. I haven’t been told why, but having seen their comings and goings at odd times, both day and night, it seems reason enough.
Colter’s bedroom is surprisingly empty, with dark wood and deep blue shadows defining the space.
There’s a king-sized bed in the middle, centered against the wall, resting on a wooden frame with high, rounded corner posts that reach up to the ceiling.
A single painting hangs above the bed, of a woman and a boy.
They look to be mother and son, and they are going on an early morning walk through the countryside.
There is a doorway in the corner that, like my room, no doubt leads to his closet.
A combination desk and shelf faces the window and doesn’t look to get much use, as there is nothing on it.
The guest rooms I passed along the way were more cluttered, and I am disappointed by the lack of things to snoop through. As I make my way from one bare piece of furniture to the next, the feeling intensifies.
It’s not much of a mission if I can’t find anything.
I’d even settle for a high school journal under his mattress at this point.
The room is disappointing, so I set my sights on the door leading into his closet.
On opening it, I find that, like the rest of his room, it is sparse to the point of emptiness.
There are a handful of suits that he’s worn around the house and a few shirts and sweatpants. But, beneath them on the floor, I find my prize, and drop to my knees to get a better look.
It’s an antique chest, age-worn and coated in a thick and glossy laminate.
The metal handles are rusty and rough to the touch, and it takes a great deal of effort to drag the chest out of the closet.
I take that as a promising sign, imagining it must be filled to the brim with all the things Colter doesn’t want to have on display.
Exactly the sort of things I’m trying to find.
But my hopes of seeing them are dashed by the thick padlock on the front.
“What are you doing here?” Colter’s voice comes from the doorway. It’s soft, almost distant, as if he doesn’t suspect my nighttime wandering has any ill intent.
Shit. How did I choose the one night he’d be home?
But that isn’t the question I should be asking.
My source material for this heist isn’t exactly reliable.
I haven’t ever had access to criminal masterminds, who might have taught me how to investigate a target, pick a lock, or even estimate the best time to strike.
Everything I’ve done, and everything I’ve learned about how to enact a covert operation, comes from movies and books.
You never see them doing this sort of thing during the day. It’s always late at night, when the world’s asleep, and they have free rein of their surroundings. But unlike the mark in those tales, I’m the victim not the mastermind.
“Are you being naughty, Lilith?” He speaks again, when I don’t answer his first question. His voice is different now, and he doesn’t sound so distant. He is completely present and expects an answer.
“No, I—” A lump in my throat chokes my words, but perhaps being interrupted in this way is for the best. I can’t think of a way to answer his question without implicating myself.
It takes every ounce of my strength to turn to face him.
Colter’s leaning against the doorframe, freshly showered and shirtless. Provokingly shirtless. A full-frontal assault on my senses.
Our hug told me he was well-built, but it couldn’t have prepared me for this.
His entire body is a rock-hard carving of lean muscle, the sharp V at his hips disappearing into his gray sweatpants, unapologetic and distracting.
Just standing there in his laid-back stance makes it look like he’s flexing, like he wants me to notice.
The part of him that holds my attention far longer than it should, is the ink that stains every inch of his bulky frame, from torso to wrist.
A warm giddiness runs through me as I allow myself a look at his body, the way he’s done to mine so many times before. This isn’t the time, I know, and if I had the ability to pick my jaw up from the floor and make excuses to run, I would.
But I’m frozen in place, and no matter how I try to convince myself otherwise, it isn’t because of my nerves at his sudden appearance.
His usually neat, swept-back dark hair hangs wet and messy over his eyes. Even with it falling forward, I know he’s watching me. I can feel his gaze pinning me in place as I kneel in front of the locked chest, exposed and painfully aware of it.
He brushes the hair out of his face. The arm he uses flexes and bulges his enormous bicep. My teeth sink into my lip, captivated by his incredible physique.
“Would you like to know what’s inside?” he asks.
Colter makes his way over to me, dropping a folder on the desk as he passes by.
He gets so close, I feel his knees brush against my shoulder.
He shoves a hand into the pocket on his gray sweats, and my eyes follow.
They don’t stay with it long, however, as I catch a glimpse of the pulsing tent in the front of his pants.
He drops a set of keys onto the floor next to me, and in my rush to retrieve them, my forehead slams against the thick length that’s poking out of his pants.
Fuck, as if this wasn’t embarrassing enough.
Colter groans, but gestures for me to continue with the chest.
I slide the key into place, and the lock disengages with a loud, tired thunk. I lift the top, anxiously to start with, but eagerly to find out what’s inside. Once it is open, I’m shocked to find there isn’t anything remotely devious about its contents.
Or rather, there doesn’t appear to be at first glance.
I see a neatly folded dress with a locket on top of it in one corner. The other corner holds an open jewelry box, with nothing inside.
“I’m confused,” I say out loud, really wishing I’d kept it inside.
“They belonged to my mother,” he says. “The only items my father let me keep of her.”
“Oh, I… I’m sorry.” I look up at Colter, who doesn’t take his eyes off the dress and locket.
“Now, you’ve gotten what you came for. Is there anything else?”
“You aren’t upset?” I ask.
“Hmm,” the sound rumbles from his chest. “It doesn’t matter, but you do understand that I can’t let this go unpunished, don’t you?” He extends a hand to help me up.
I take it.
“Punishment? You’re kidding, right?” I scoff, taking his lack of response to my question as a good thing.
I shouldn’t have.
“Deathly serious, I’m afraid,” he replies.
Colter’s grip tightens around my hand, and he walks me over to the bed, still holding it. My rapid heartbeat and short breaths, in anticipation of whatever he’s got in mind, leave me lightheaded by the time we reach it.
“Let this be a warning, Lilith, about how curiosity killed the cat.”
“What? Stop thi—”
In one swift motion, Colter lets go of my wrist, and pushes me forward onto the mattress. I flop onto my belly, but he’s right behind, grabbing my hips and pulling back until I’m kneeling on all fours.
“What the fuck?” I turn my head over one shoulder to look at him, but Colter’s in a world of his own. He’s focused solely on delivering my punishment, no matter the cost.
He slides the tips of his fingers down my waistline, between it and my panties. Trying to crawl away only plays into his hand, as my pants drop lower over my ass.
Oh fuck.
Do I enjoy this?
Do I hate this?
I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but not for the reason I thought it would.
“Don’t you know rifling through other people’s belongings is wrong?” he asks, placing a hand on my cheek. The only thing between him and my skin is a thin piece of cotton.
He keeps the other hand on my hip as a way to keep me locked in place.
“Colter, stop. You’ve made your poi—”
He lifts his hand and brings it down hard against my ass.
My body betrays me. Instead of howling in disgusted, painful fury, a moan slips out of my lips. Another follows quickly behind, as he delivers a second spank.
I grip the bedsheet tightly, and have to force myself to stop pushing my hips backward for another.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He bends over and places an electrifying kiss against the hot, bumpy handprint he marked me with. It zaps through my body, settling defiantly in a tight, wanting knot in my core. I want more than he’s willing to give. Not his hand, but something else.
His mouth… The throbbing source of the tent in his pants, even better.
Colter stands and I jump to my feet on his bed. With the added height, I can look him straight in the eye.
“Fuck you,” I spit, trying to regain any sense of composure I can, and slam both my fists into his rock-solid chest.
Before I see it coming, Colter’s hand wraps around my face and squeezes my cheeks together. He holds me firmly, but not painfully, and our eyes meet. His eyes burn with dark severity at my retaliation. Mine must mirror my thoughts, and how I can’t stop myself from finding this so fucking hot.
“Poor choice of words,” he says.
My pulse starts racing. He was willing to bend me over and spank me without hesitation. I shouldn’t think he’s not willing to take it a step further.
But at the same time, there isn’t a part of me that’s rushing to stop him.
He holds me in place as his eyes travel down my body. They stop at my thighs, which I left uncovered in my haste to show my disapproval of what he was doing. A tremendous and deep rumble comes from his chest, nearly making my already wobbly legs crumble.
He pulls me forward and our mouths smash together. They lock in an earthshattering kiss. Colter’s greedy tongue instantly fights through the barriers of my lips to get a better taste of me.
I throw my hands up to his head, and tug the handfuls of damp hair I grip. His hands snake down my body, one resting on my thigh, the other reaching for the scorched flesh he left on my buttock.
I moan into his mouth, feeling the sting of his grip.
He growls into mine. It’s a savage, primal sound that tells me what words could never express…
Colter Crawford is the king of this jungle.
And his eyes are set on me.
Satisfied that his message is coming across, Colter breaks our kiss and his hands immediately reach for my pants to pull them up. I can’t tell you how much it hurts, when I would’ve given him any damn thing he wants…
“Has my message come across clearly?” he asks, offering me a courteous hand to help me off his bed.
“Loud and clear,” I say, dragging a finger between the grooves of his immaculate six-pack.
For a split second, wanting him outweighs every reason I shouldn’t.
I need to get out of here. Like, right now.
The door clicks shut behind me, and only then does my body catch up with what just happened.
My skin still burns where his hand landed, my pulse still throbs low and needy, and that’s the part that unsettles me most.
I didn’t just endure the punishment. I wanted it.
What the fuck and oh God, that was amazing, runs through my mind as I make my way back to my room.